A Mad King
by FabashulousEmpress
Summary: When Tom Gaunt is crowned after the suspicious death of his brother, the Potters, Blacks, Malfoys and other great families come to King's Landing for his coronation. As the ruthless nobility begin to reach for their children, James Potter, Sirius Black and others are sent to the Eyrie to be protected by Lord Albus Dumbledore. But with a war brewing, they may not be safe for long.
1. Lily I

Lily:

I wake up to my half-sister howling furiously in the next room.

"Father, you idiot!" she screams. "How could you not know they were coming today!"

"Now, now sweetheart," Father replies. "I couldn't know. They didn't know where they would stop on their way to King's Landing. I don't know where we will stop on our way to King's Landing. As a matter of fact-"

"Oh shut up and get out already, you great fool!" she shrieks, and I hear the thud of her shoe hitting a wall. "Go bring your excuses to that freak! She has the time! Lord knows she doesn't need to get ready like I do!" A few seconds after that pronouncement, a door slams and Father tromps into my room.

"Lily, are you awake?" As he says this, I sit up, rubbing my eyes.

"How could I not be after that!" He laughs, then sits down next to me and sighs.

"Were you awake for…well, for all of it?" he says. I nod, and he looks away.

"I just want to say, before you judge her you must-"

"Father."

"I mean, I want to explain her behavior, although there is no excuse for-"

"Father."

"You know Petunia, she's a complicated child and -"

" _Father._

He finally stops and looks at me as I take his hands in mine.

"I know what she thinks of me." He looks slightly ashamed, as if he thought he had succeeded in protecting me from her vicious streak.

"And what's that?"

"I know she hates me, at least for now, probably since she found out that my mother's not her mother, and I know she thinks my brothers and I are all bastards, and that we don't deserve to live here. I know all of these things Father. You don't need to make excuses for her."

"Lily," he murmurs, looking at me, his eyes imploring me to forgive her and pitying me for having to know all of this at the same time. I lean closer to him, putting his hands down as I do.

"And I don't care." He looks shocked at that.

"It doesn't matter, I'll always love her like my sister, even if she's not." He looks at me disbelievingly.

"You don't have to say that."

"I don't have to say it. It's the truth." He still doesn't believe me. In his head, he sees the Petunia and Lillian of now, with yelling and cursing and, in my case, sometimes violence. I try to make him understand.

"She's my family and I'm hers. Just because she's annoying and bossy and crazy and vain and absolutely hates me most of the time doesn't mean that's not true." He shakes his head in disbelief.

"I think that you are the most forgiving 11-year-old I have ever met." He nudges me playfully and smiles. "Certainly more forgiving than your sister was at that age." I smirk.

"Father, you're far too generous with me." I can tell that as soon as I say it he's thinking of all of the servants I've destroyed for being cruel to Dudley.

"I'm only ever forgiving of family." We enjoy a moment together before he remembers the reason he was in my room in the first place.

"The Potters! How could I forget?" He stands up hurriedly, brushing the dirt off of his lap. He walks out of the room even more quickly, combing his hands through his graying hair and beard and muttering something unpleasant about the great houses of the land and their unexpected arrivals, which I can only attribute to nerves.

* * *

As my maids help me get ready, putting on my multilayered, beautiful, uncomfortable dress (ugh), and fixing my hair up in the style of the Crownlands, I wonder about the legendary Potters. They've been lords in the North for a thousand years, unlike us Evans, whose stint as a noble family began exactly two generations ago. They are a far greater house than us, which you can tell just from the difference in the names of our castles. Winterfell and Marshwood Keep. It is _very_ difficult to tell which one belongs to the Wardens of the North and which to a minor house in the Riverlands.

The Potters are great warriors as well, a well-known fact since the beginning of time. The only reason they're not the rulers of their own country is because of the Gaunt dragons, so many years ago. Without them, there was no way to tame the North. It was far too large, and its people were of the First Men, a huge army of fearless, strong warriors. The dragons are gone now, but the strength of the Northern army is not diminished in the slightest. Father has always told me that if the North rode South, he doesn't know if the other six kingdoms together could stop their advance.

Needless to say, I, who can use a bow and a sword better than most of my brothers, am very excited to meet Robb Potter and his daughter Lyanna. He's the best swordsman the world has ever known, or so they say, and she trained underneath him, at his request. Some say she's even better than him, and has defeated in him in honorable single combat. But usually the two of them fight together, on the battlefield and in tournaments. In short, they're the most amazing father and daughter ever! And I'm going to meet them! Of course, Petunia thinks Lyanna would be an absolute horror. _She's_ excited to meet Lady Alysanne Potter, who's famous for her beauty. And her embroidery. And her singing.

Once I'm in my best gown, I hoist the skirts up to my knees and sprint to the stairs, then slide down the bannister with my sister's septa twittering behind me. I race out to the courtyard and stand next to Petunia, who glares down her nose at me and flares her nostrils. She's only one year older than me and yet the prat thinks she's the queen of the bloody world.

I've just poked her in the ribs and she's glaring at me when the gates open. I see the banners before anything else. The great silver stag, beautifully painted on a blue banner. Although I know that it's only a painting, supposed to be terrifying, I feel as if it is a father, protector of the Potters. Then I see Robb ride in alongside Lyanna and in front of his other children and his wife in the carriage. I am absolutely sure that I would rather be protected by them than a painted stag.

While the Lady Alysanne and all the children are dressed in fine clothes and riding in carriages, Lady Lyanna and her father ride in front in full armor, carrying swords of Valyrian steel, the best steel ever made, the secret of its creation lost with old Valyria. Ice and Snow, the swords passed down from father to son. The fact that his daughter carries it instead of his firstborn son, James, is significant proof of her importance, to her family and to her people.

They dismount and Robb walks over to greet his wife and their children, helping them out of the carriage. They walk over to my father, and as they grow closer, I stand up straighter. Lord Potter bows to my father and kisses my mother's hand.

"Lord Evans, thank you for having us on such short notice," he says courteously. My father smiles at that.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Potter. You and yours are always welcome here," he replies, as is customary when a guest arrives.

As soon as these necessary formalities are done with, the two men hug.

"Pete, I really am grateful. It's difficult to put up with all of this at home, let alone abroad," he says, gesturing at his long retinue. Father laughs at that.

"I'm always glad to have you Robby. But," He looks at retinue. "How long do you think you'll be staying?"

Lord Robb raises an eyebrow. "I thought I was always welcome."

"Oh you are. I just wanted to know if I'll have to bring out the winter food stores to feed all of you." Lord Robb claps him on the back and they laugh. They walk off, talking about battles gone by and times long past, Father looking younger by years.

Now that the adults have gone off, I can talk to Lyanna. I'm absolutely terrified. She's my hero. What if she doesn't like me? What if she thinks I'm like Petunia and the rest? I breathe in as much air as I can get in this stupid dress, then out. I smile tentatively and take a step forward.

"Would you like the honor of giving me a tour of this castle?"

I look up at this person in utter disgust. Who is he, that he thinks he can talk to me like this? I was just about to talk to my idol. I look back towards Lyanna longingly, but he's already taken my arm and spun me around. It's difficult to move in this dress, so instead of turning back around, I decide to make this idiot's life a living hell. We'll see if he still wants his tour of the castle as I show him all the different kinds of beech trees in the garden and my Petunia's bloody cloths.

"Who are you?" I ask, making sure to sound polite. He puffs up a bit, taking pride in the fact that he gets to tell me this, as if he is the most important person I'll ever know and I get the honor of hearing his name from his own lips. It is at this point that I am sure beyond a reasonable doubt that he is an insufferable arse.

"I'm James Potter," he says, waiting to bask in my adoration.

I am unimpressed by this so-called heir to the North.

"Pleasure. I'm Lily Evans," I say casually. He stops and looks at me like I'm a monster with three heads. He then shakes himself out of it, probably thinking that perhaps I'm too stupid to know who he is.

"I'm the first born son of Robb Potter."

"I'm aware." I walk through the courtyard into one of the castle's corridors.

"My sister is Lyanna Potter."

"Mm-hmm." He runs ahead of me now, and begins jogging backwards.

"I'm the heir to Winterfell."

"Aah."

"My great grandfathers were Kings in the North!"

"Lovely."

"The greatest army in the world will one day be at _my_ command."

"That's interesting."

"I started learning to use a sword when I was nine."

"I was three."

"I'm a part of the greatest family in the North."

"My grandfather was a smuggler."

"I am probably the most powerful boy of my age in all of Westeros!"

"Very nice."

He throws his hands up in the air, still jogging backwards, unable to see the end of the hallway behind him.

"Don't you care?!"

I snort as he hits his head on the wall and walk through the doorway.

"Not really."

He stands up and brushes himself off, then chases after me, latching himself onto my arm like a leech thirsty for blood. Hmmm. A leech. Parasitic and disgusting. A far better metaphor for this James Potter than a stag.

"Did you say you're trained with a sword?" I nod, trying to make him go away. He snorts.

"I bet you're not any good." This irritates me, but I don't let him know that, keeping my face deadpan.

"Is that so."

"Yes, it is."

"And why would you think that?"

"Because you're a girl." That statement was a mistake. I no longer want him to go away or leave me alone. I want to humiliate him, so that every time he sees my face he is filled with a renewed sense of shame. But I will bide my time. After all, revenge is a dish best served cold.

"Doesn't your sister hold your family's sword, instead of you? I was under the impression that she was a girl." He snorts at that.

"Lyanna's only holding the sword until I come of age, she's not really a fighter. I can beat her easily now. She'll go back to doing her woman's work, like sewing and playing the harp, once I'm old enough to fight for our family." I don't believe a word out of that pompous idiot's mouth. And I will destroy him for badmouthing his family just to look good. (Or at least that's what I'll tell father and the gods.)

"I see. I was under the impression that she fought side by side with your father and beat every man who challenged her. I guess she and I are less alike than I thought."

"Why's that?" I stop and turn to look at him, staring daggers into his soul.

"Because I guarantee that I could knock you on your arse if I had a wooden stick as long as my arm and you were holding Snow." I turn and walk away from him, running around a corner and hurrying into my favorite secret passage before he can catch up.

* * *

I run through the passages into my room. In there, I change out of that hateful, straight laced dress and into a much more comfortable tunic and trousers. I peek out of the door to make sure no one has followed me, then grab my sword, Senshi, and run down the back stairs and into a second courtyard, which is the place where I feel most at home.

"Ser Rodrik!" I yell, as soon as I'm out.

Ser Rodrik is the most talented warrior in my father's castle, and that's saying something. Everyone here, including my father, was given their title for service to the crown, which means all of them are soldiers, not pompous lords like a certain prissy Potter. Ser Rodrik is the best of the best though. He once fought off 20 Black men, one of whom was a practitioner of blood magic. But although I love him, it's not him I'm looking for right now.

"Yes Lily?"

"Do you know where Sev is?" Severus Snape is Ser Rodrik's nephew, my best friend, and probably the only person in the world outside of our family who likes me more than Tuni. Ser Rodrik shakes his head, exasperated.

"I never know where that boy is."

"Oh. Alright." I'm dejected, but only for a moment, until I have an absolutely wonderful idea. Something that's sure to cheer me up.

"Can you spar with me?" He cocks his head, one eyebrow raised.

"Didn't the Potter boy ask you to show him around the castle?"

"He did," I say, taking my stance.

"Is there any particular reason why you're here and not on the arm of the heir to Winterfell?" he says, taking his. I strike and he parries.

"Let me think." I pause. "Oh, that's right. Because he's an idiot." Ser Rodrick attacks and I parry in a flurry of blows, before he touches his blade to my neck.

"Come now Lily, you've only just met him. What have I told you about making quick judgements of people?" he says, as we start again.

"Yes, I know, I know, a quick judgement of your opponent is the deadliest mistake. But you know me. I don't normally make judgements like that. Father said only this morning that he thinks I'm the most forgiving eleven-year-old he's ever met." I pause, thinking of how I should continue.

"It's not a normal thing for me. I think he's the only person I've ever met who I immediately disliked." Rodrick winks.

"You know what they say. There's a thin line between love and hate." That angers me more than any advice he's ever give me and I fly at him, giving no thought to defense.

"Be angry Lily, you can't help that," he says, hitting me in the stomach, then the heart, then the collarbone. "But not too angry. It makes you worse, not better."

We continue on for a while in silence and I actually manage to get in a few hits. I feel the anger and frustration drain out of me, as it always does, and time flies by. When I look up at the sun, it's nearly set. Not good. I sheath Senshi and run up the stairs with my sword in hand.

"Bye Ser Rodrik!" I yell over my shoulder. I tear into my room and call for my maids, who dress me and arrange my hair at a terrifying speed. I never take the time to appreciate them, but they must be near superhuman to prevent _me_ from being late and looking somewhat presentable at the same time. My septa, who does not possess the same amount of mettle, is screaming as I throw myself onto the bannister, nearly falling off and down the stairs before righting myself. I race to the door of the great hall, then walk inside calmly and gracefully in, like a proper lady, and sit next to Tuni at the table at the front of the hall. Mother gives me a warning look for coming in late. But the Potters aren't here yet, and you're not late until you come into your dining hall after your guests. That's a simple fact, and who am I to argue with facts?

* * *

The Potters walk in and towards the head table. There are only two open seats in my vicinity, one on my right and one on Tune. Lyanna is walking towards me. I silently pray to the Seven that she will sit next to me. She walks closer, touching the hilt of her sword, glancing slyly at my slightly windswept hair and winking. At this moment, I am sure that my prayers have been answered. And then, suddenly… James.

"Hello again Lady Evans," he smirks. I begin cutting up my food as quickly as possible, refusing to look at him.

"James," I respond, before stuffing food in my mouth. His smirk grows wider, for whatever reason.

"Why so cruel, Evans? After all, one day, we'll be husband and wife." I stop eating to digest this information, then continue my meal.

"No we won't."

"That's where you're mistaken my lady. I heard our fathers discussing it. They think it would be a fortuitous match, strengthening the bonds between our houses even further," he says, sure of himself as ever.

"Marriage is good for strengthening the bonds between houses. A newlywed bride brutally murdering her husband on their wedding night has the potential to put those bonds in peril." He frowns now. "That is if your father did not love my father so." The frown deepens at the thought that there is someone who wouldn't go to war over him.

"Well, you'll still have to do it if your father says so." he says petulantly.

"He won't."

"How can you be sure?" I finally look up from my food, in order to look him dead in the eyes.

"Because if my father won't listen to me when I first beg him not to do such a horrid thing to his favorite daughter, I'll describe in detail all the ways I can kill you and make it look like an accident." This is probably the worst thing anyone has ever said to him, and I can tell. He looks at me blankly for a moment.

"You have a very violent mind, Lady Evans."

"Be quiet or I'll put it to good use, Lord Potter." And with that, the torturous conversation ends and I am left to an evening of staring longingly two seats to my left.


	2. Andromeda I

Andromeda:

I sit in the stuffy carriage with my sisters, trying not to inhale the stench that is already wafting in from King's Landing, which still lies a mile away. Narcissa is peacefully sleeping, as she has been throughout the voyage, a bit of drool on the fine gown of red silk and black Myrish lace that Mother had commissioned especially for her, and in her curled and styled hair. I cannot help but smile at our small, lovely family favorite.

I should have continued pretending I was asleep.

"She is a beastly little thing, isn't she?" Bellatrix proclaims, sneering down at her. She prods at Cissy's cheek with a bony finger, as if testing to see if she will wake, then pinches her when there is no response. The little one stays sleeping, but no longer looks untroubled. I sigh.

"Why must you torture her so?" She scowls like a petulant child.

"She deserves it. Besides, we all know no one else will." At this, she crosses her arms over her chest, as if daring me to challenge her. I am not one to back down from a challenge.

"The reason no one is unkind to her is because she is a sweet, good child, not to mention your sister! What has she ever done to make you hate her so?"

"She is a filthy blood traitor!" she shouts, hysterical. "If you would open your eyes, you would see it! Have you ever seen the way she looks at that boy! The squire!" I roll my eyes at her antics.

"I have seen it. If that is all that worries you, have no fear. It is but a silly flirtation, harmless. I went through much the same." She inhales deeply, then exhales.

"Your dalliances were always with knights or lords. Those you could have married, had the flirtation escalated. But this boy, he is not of the blood. If she thinks she loves him, if he gets it in her head that she must prove that…"

"Nothing will come of it, Bella. And if it does, she must know that we are here for her. We will be the ones to bring her moon tea, to bring her to hedge witches for cures." She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

"I will do no such thing. If she lays with him, or any like him, she is a blood traitor. I will not have my family feel the shame of the Weasely's." She spits on the ground, spattering Anni's dress, and I begin to feel the fury I have tried to suppress bubble up inside of me. "If she wishes to dirty herself with that mud-" I slap her hard with the back of my hand, my ring connecting with her teeth.

"She. Is. Your. Sister. And more importantly, it would seem, she is mine. I swore by the Seven when she was born that no one would ever harm her, Bella. You swore the same oath at our cradles. And for me, that oath includes protecting her from you." I am silent for a moment, and so is she.

"The Lady Merope was King Morfin's sister," she says. "I wonder if he swore the same oath." And before I can respond, the full smell of that heap of shit we call a capital hits me, and Bella turns away.

I sit in front of my mirror, in the room provided to me by His Grace. I have seen the rooms of the lesser branches of my family, and mine is far larger and more opulent. Every wall is covered with elaborate tapestries, the floor with a luscious rug. The furnishings are hand carved and the mirror is made of glass, not bronze. It is perhaps the most beautiful room I have ever stayed in.

I do not like it. My mother and father taught me in my youth that lords do not give ladies gifts for nothing and it would be a lie to say that I do not know what our new king wants. I have been told since I was old enough to understand what beauty was that mine would bring me far in this world. My sisters were taught the same. For a time, all we knew was the flirtations and courtly love one will find at a court such as Hightower. And then some fool minstrel wrote The Black Flowers, about the beautiful maiden daughters of the Reach, and suddenly knights and lords flocked to my father for our hands. Father has yet to accept any of these proposals, perhaps because there are too many of them, or perhaps because Bella must be married before us. And if he chooses wrong for her, she will send him her lord husband's head in place of a son.

Someone knocks at the door, startling me out of the dark thoughts that always accompany Bella's name.

"Come in," I say, and a fleet of maids obey my command. They help me into my gown, an almost identical one to that Cissy wore on the carriage ride, except that mine seeks to accentuate my woman's figure. The lilies of House Black are embroidered onto the sleeves and skirt and pearls line their edges. It is beautiful and painful and it takes an hour to put it on correctly. There are hours of dressing after that, where the maids pile my hair upon my head, cover my face in powder, and add dabs of perfume behind my ears, on my wrists and on any other place that could possibly transmit the smell of lily-of-the-valley. It is only after this torturous preparation that I can walk outside of my bedroom.

I walk down the stairs with my perfect posture and a courtier's smile, barely able to breathe. As I reach the bottom, Mother smiles.

"Andromeda, you are lovely," she says, with a delighted smile. I bow my head in acknowledgement.

"Thank you, Mother," I reply. I am turning around to see if Bella is coming down the stairs when a small body runs up and hugs me from behind, nearly knocking me over.

"By the gods, Dromeda! You look beautiful!" she exclaims. I remove her arms from my torso and turn around to look at her.

"I find that hard to believe when I look upon the image of the Maiden herself." She grins and blushes, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Dromeda dear." Cissy's face falls as Bella comes sweeping down the stairs, yards of white and red fabric trailing behind her. She reaches down and pats the younger girl firmly on the cheek, then turns back to me.

"Cissy is very pretty, but we mustn't be blasphemous." She looks down at Mother with a stare that is somehow both innocent and condescending. "Right Mother?"

Mother is confused for a moment, then smiles and nods.

"Yes Dromeda. We must be certain to honor the Seven, even above our own families." She hugs Cissy and kisses her forehead.

"Even if that family includes the loveliest ladies in all of Westeros," she says and pulls me and Bella close as well, kissing us on the cheeks.

"My girls shall be the greatest ladies in the land." she says, smiling at us. Bella tosses her hair.

"Who knows, Mother?" She grins. "Perhaps one Black lady shall be the greatest in the land."

Mother looks around frantically, making sure no one is listening.

"You mustn't say such things here, Bella," she murmurs. "In the Red Keep, the walls have ears."

It is obvious that Bella doesn't care.

"Let them hear. What can they do? I will marry him or I will not. I will be queen or I will not. I have no control in the manner. Varys' little birds have no control in the manner. It is only the king who can decide." I stare hard at my mother and sister, for what they say is madness.

"If I recall correctly, the king is married. To Queen Rhaella." Father snorts from behind me and I jump, startled.

"The king's marriage to the queen is a sham. It was orchestrated by Morfin, and none of his decisions have ever been accepted by the lords or the people." He tuts, and makes a motion as if to muss Bella's hair, then pulls his hand back as she glares at it. He smiles nervously, and then regains his composure as the Lady of Winterfell comes sweeping down the stairs with her two younger children.

"What man would choose to stay married to his sister when he could marry a Black flower of the Reach?" he booms. I try not to roll my eyes, and Lady Potter raises her eyebrows slightly at his words, before entering the carriage with the little ones. Father sees this eyebrow raise and stiffens, mortally insulted.

"Our girls are pure perfection, the very definition of a good Southern lady. All of them are far more beautiful than any other woman in the land, and _they_ know a woman's place. They sing beautifully and are still more beautiful when they dance. Their sewing is perfection and they have such wide hips, that they will bear many children to their husbands. In short they will be wonderful wives." As the carriage sits waiting, he begins to stage whisper. "I have heard that women of the North are absolutely barbaric. In fact, I have heard that Lord Potter's oldest daughter acts as a man, only not as well!" He roars at his own jest, and slaps his knee. James Potter comes running down the stairs and into the carriage, and as it drives away, Lady Potter looks at us through the window. Her face does not change, but I can tell from her eyes that the Reach has gained an implacable enemy today.

Father has always thought that he must be the best at everything, and that he must have the best of everything. He wanted to be the best father, so he piled gifts upon us when we were good and beat us within an inch of our lives where no one would see when we were bad. He wants to be the best liege lord, so whenever his vassals pay him tribute, he throws a feast for them which wastes half of the resources we gain from these trips. He wanted to have the best castle, so he nearly bankrupted us on repairs to Hightower. And now he has decided that his daughters must have the best husbands. He is a good man, or at least a decent one, but he is foolish and prideful. And now some idiot has put the idea of his daughter on the throne into his head and he has made an enemy of the wife of one of the most respected lords in Westeros. All he ever tries to get is the best, and often his grasping means that he loses it.

Bella, Cissy, and I climb into the carriage with Father still blustering about how his daughters will be the greatest ladies in all Westeros, and how many sons we will bear our husbands, talking on and on about the large size of our hips and the small size of our stiches while Mother tries desperately to shush him. The carriage driver sits waiting for them to finish their bickering and get in the carriage. Bella leans forward and taps him on the shoulder.

"You may take me and my sisters to the Sept of Baelor." The driver looks at our parents and opens his mouth to protest. Bella laughs, with an amount of cruelty only she could imbue into a sound that is normally happy.

They shall not be done for a while. We are the reason our family is here anyway." He still looks unsure. She sighs dramatically and throws herself back into her seat. "They have another carriage you know! Situations like this one are the entire reason we brought it!" He shakes his head, finally having made up his mind.

"I'm sorry milady. I can't leave without milord in the carriage. I have orders." Bella's eyes narrow, the laughter gone out of them. She gives a tight-lipped smile.

"What is your name, boy?" she asks.

"I'm Theodore Tonks, milady. But most folks call me Ted." Her smile spreads across her face.

"Well, Ted, if this carriage does not start taking me to the coronation of the man who will be my husband very soon, I will be supremely displeased. More concerning, I think, for you than for my parents." He is confused. I sigh. Why must she always do this?

"You see, they are my parents after all, no matter how useless they be. I can't do anything to them. But you." She pauses to take in the fear beginning to show in his eyes. I feel an odd urge to protect him, as I always do with those who attract my sister's wrath. But I keep silent, as always, and let her continue. "You are only a servant. Barely a person really. You practically belong to me. Yes, I can do whatever I want to you. And have you heard, Ted Tonks, what I do to those who displease me?"

"No milady," he says, not looking at her.

She is out of her seat faster than I can see, her lips next to his ear in a motion as quick as a viper.

"I flay them." He turns white and turns around. He clicks his tongue at the horses and flicks his whip.

"Yes milady," he says. She flops back down into her seat, then goes to the window with me to see our parent's reactions to their only chariot leaving without them.

Father doesn't even notice that the carriage has left. He is deep in conversation with his brother Orion. Mother sees, and goes white as a sheet, before discreetly whispering some orders in one of the servant's ear. She then goes back to listening to them speak, probably about what good, and obedient daughters he has.

"Sometimes, they are truly ridiculous," Bella says plainly. Cissy laughs and so do I, all of us unified for once, as sisters should be. And the situation is so absurd, that we have gone from listening to whispered threats to mocking our foolish parents, that I laugh all the harder. By the time the hysteria had died down, I am gasping, thoroughly out of breath. I loosen my stays, and turn my face back out the window, looking once more at the decidedly silly pair. I then turn towards our destination, trying to calm down so I am not red-faced when I meet our new king.

The king, whose elder brother Aegon died when Tom was thirty-nine, of an illness after forty-eight years of perfect health. The king, who was born of incest between sister and brother, who has given his own sister two children, and quiets the traitorous words against him by killing those who are even rumored to have accused him of any perversion or bastardry, whether they be whores or septons. The king, a sinner and a perhaps a madman, who, if my parents have their way, may well be my brother in law, or even my husband.


End file.
